


Pity Party:Table For One (Mark Pellegrino + OC)

by angel_scoggins



Category: Mark Pellegrino - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Angst and Humor, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Biological Clock, Creampie, F/M, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Impregnation, Mark Pellegrino - Freeform, Pregnancy, Supernatural - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 18:53:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14142384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel_scoggins/pseuds/angel_scoggins
Summary: Its hard when you reach a certain age with baby desires left unfulfilled. So Our heroine is pretty wrecked when her old friend Mark pellegrino stops by. She pours her heart and soul out to him, getting more than she expected from him in return... Pregnancy and creampie kink included.





	Pity Party:Table For One (Mark Pellegrino + OC)

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie I put a lot of my own angst and feels into this one. Think having a baby by such a beautiful creature would be epic, yeah. I regret nothing :)

Most parents want their kids to grow up, move out of the house and give them grandchildren. My mother was not one of those people. It was always her dream in life for me to never grow up, never leave home and never date anyone with a penis. In fact, when I was a teenager she would buy me lesbian books just hoping that something, anything, would take. Well, she failed. Because I grew up, got a job and ran out of there as fast as my dick loving ass could take me. Though I still occasionally saw my mother at holidays and family functions. And her disappointment over my failure to conform to a gay lifestyle continued to mar our relationship.  
I guess on a certain level I always felt like a failure for not being who my mother wanted me to be. And I wasn’t exactly feeling the love from the people with penises in the world either. If my dating life were a TV series it would be a revival of Unsolved Mysteries. Men would show up in my life and then just vanish into thin air. No texts. No phone calls. Not even a fuck and run. And at 39 I wasn’t exactly getting any younger. I’d like to say that I was wiser, but to be honest I would have traded all my hard fought wisdom in life for the ability to eat spicy foods after midnight and breasts who’s main mission in life wasn’t to dig their to China  
Today was a really hard day for me. Valentine’s day. The day that made other women swoon with delight as they cuddled with that special someone. And the day that made me wish my mother’s mother had been like my mother and had connived to convert her to lesbianism. And that it had worked. Which is just a fancy way of saying that on Valentines day I do not leave my apartment. I do not answer the phone. I do not go on social media. Pretty much the only thing separating me from being Tom Hanks in Castaway is an ice skate and soccer ball and some Nair.   
So I wasn’t really in much of a mood for socializing when actor Mark Pellegrino called me asking if he could come over. Mark and I went back for years. I had directed him on some of his projects and had done a few episodes of Supernatural. I thought he was a super sweet guy and the fact that he was intelligent as all hell and sexy as all hell didn’t hurt either. And tall, the dude is tall as fuck. Taller even than he looks on TV. When you first meet him its like, god he’s so, so, so stunning. Blue eyed. And tall. That’s really the best way I know of to describe meeting Mark. Sorry. That’s just the reality of that situation. I’m not gonna sugar coat it for you.  
I was aware before Mark came over that I didn’t exactly look like a attractive creature. My hair was slightly messy looking from laying on the couch and watching Bates Motel on Netflix. And my face was all make up free and gross from ugly crying. I know this because I often look at myself in the mirror before, during and after a cry. Because I like to torment myself that way.  
So when Mark knocked on my door, I wasn’t exactly Natalie Portman in any movie, photo shoot or TV appearance she’s ever done, OK? And I open the door to find Mark standing there in one of his leather jacket, blue jeans numbers, looking like the breathraking, distinguished creature he is. And I’m standing there looking up at him feeling like the Gollum character straight outta Tolkien.  
“How have you been?” Mark kissed me on the cheek, choosing to ignore the fact that I smelled of peanut butter sandwiches and regret.   
“Good,” I lied with all the believability of a teenage boy denying fucking a pie with his dick still in it.  
Mark and I had hung out enough that we had a routine. We’d sit on my couch drinking scotch and watching the things I wanted to watch. And in return we talked about things he wanted to talk about. And let me just stop here and say that this dude knows a hell of a lot of shit. About everything. If you’re ever in an elevator and it breaks down, don’t be shocked if Mark climbs up through the ceiling and fixes it with his car keys and some spit. Because he read about it somewhere.  
Today we were watching the newest Deadpool movie. I thought this was particularly funny because I always trolled Mark online with gifs calling him Deadpool. Although, to be fair he was more Bruce Wayne as capitalist Batman most of the time. You had to get some scotch in him usually before Deadpool would make an appearance. Drunk Mark? Funnier than fuck. Just saying.  
I lasted about halfway through the movie before I started crying again. And not cute little weeping fits like Natalie Portman would make. These were deep, gutteral sobs like one might hear coming from a demonically possessed child.   
“What’s wrong?” Mark puts an arm around me and pulls me close. I wasn’t expecting it, but I happily accepted the gesture, sinking into his welcoming warmth. And inadvertantly rubbing snot all over his leather jacket, a fact he chose to ignore.   
“I’m fucking old, Mark,” I stuttered into his jacket. “Look at me. I’m not married. No guy. No kids. Not even a couple of cats. Just kill me now.”  
"You’re not old,“ Mark tells me, getting up to find me some tissues, partly I supposed to rectify the snotty jacket situation. "We have the happiness we choose to have. We those we choose to have it with. Why not just choose to be happy? Why do you think you don’t deserve to be happy?”  
I sat there sullenly as Mark handed me the tissues. In my mind I was imagining him fixing a broken elevator with his spit and car keys. “Look at you,” I told him. “Sexy as fuck. Big star. Fans all over the damn place. And men can have kids when they’re like a hundred. Shut the fuck up and sit down.”  
“OK, so what do you want to do about your life?” Mark leaned back with his arms stretched out on either side of the top of the sofa. His piercing blue eyed bored into mine and I found myself looking away. “You’ve made yourself miserable. Lets make you happy again. How do you want to do that?”  
"I want you to have passionate sex with me and to have a kid who grows up to be a beautiful little guy with your looks and brains and my ability to wiggle my ears.“  
Mark just looked at me for a moment. "OK.”  
I cocked my head like one of those mystified dogs in a YouTube video. “Uh? OK to what, Mark?”  
Mark leans over and gently kisses me. His lips are really soft and he knows how to use them, I’ll put it that way. His hand touches the side of my neck and pulls me closer to him. I moaned, loving the way his mouth felt against mine and the fire that was roaring in my belly all of a sudden. His tongue darted into my mouth as his hands stroked my back and sides.  
“God, you’re beautiful,” I tell him, kissing his neck biting down on his skin. Just a little.   
"That’s my line , but OK I’ll take it,“ he said, laughing.  
He leaned me back and laid on top of me. I wish I could tell you that I acted really cool about all of this. But that would be a lie. I was writhing under him like no one had ever made me take sex ed and I was trying to fuck him through his clothes. I ripped off his jacket and helped him remove his shirt, hungrily kissing and licking every part of him I could reach. He shivered as I gently bit on one of his nipples before grabbing me by the head and kissing me again.  
"What do you want me to do?” Mark asked me as he took off my top and took turns sucking and stroking my tits and looking up at me. “Tell me what you enjoy. Fast? Slow? Do you want me to get you off with my mouth?”  
Marks words made my pussy even hotter than it already was. He had a way with words and a gentle, caring demeanor, so I had always suspected he’d be the kind of man who would bend over backwards to make a lover cum. I wasn’t wrong.  
“I need you inside of me. I need you. Sorry, I can’t say it sexier than that. I’m just me.”   
Mark kissed me on the forehead. “You’re you is enough for me.”  
And this is another part where I wish I could say I remained really calm and collected, when he takes his jeans off. Now I’m not sure how many of you have seen Mark naked, but let me tell you ladies that he’s bit got a water bottle down there,lad I’m just saying. And I was pretty hot to suck on it like I usually would with a partner but right now all I could think about was getting him inside of me. God, I hurt for it. Needed it. Needed him. So I wrapped my legs tight around him and begged him to fuck me, rubbing my wet pussy against the thick head of his cock to make sure he got the hang of things.   
“I love you.” Mark takes my face and makes me look up at him. “I have for a long time.”   
I was about to tell him that I loved him too but at just that moment he sunk his cock into me and I lost the ability to anything but make high pitched wendigo noises. He set a hard, fast pace, loud moans leaving him as he kissed and bit my tits. I found out pretty quick that eye contact was a big thing with him, that he loved sharing the moment and being watched while he fucked a woman. And I was happy to oblige him. The sight of his thick cock going in and out of my pussy made things even hotter. As did his constant words of encouragement and baby’s and pleases. Mark is a talker. And how he acts when he’s balls deep in pussy is pretty much the same.   
I felt the orgasm building inside of me I and buried my face in Mark’s neck, breathing him in and letting it happen. I tensed up as it overtook me, a cry leaving my lips as Mark thrusted even harder, helping to drive my orgasm home. I whimpered his name. Fuck. It felt so damn good to get off under him, surrounded by him. Feeling my pussy contract around him, trying to milk him of his cum.  
Mark leaned his face over mine, a smile on his face. His eyes were filled with affection and love and respect. No man had ever looked at me like that before. He clenched his jaws and his body shuddered as his his pace became more frantic. I stroked is head and begged him to cum. To fill me my pussy up. To make me his.  
I felt the hot spurts of his release inside of me as he came moaning my name. He just kept coming and coming. His body quaking in my arms. I kept my legs wrapped around him, wanting his cock inside of me as long as I could.  
When Mark was finished filling me with his cum, he got on his knees and lifted my legs into he air, almost over my head.  
"Uh, what are you dong, Mark?“  
"This helps aid in conception. I read it somewhere.”   
I laughed.  
"What’s so funny?“  
"Oh, nothing. Nothing. Don’t worry about it, Mark.”


End file.
